Sunday, April 13, 2014

Greetings and salutations from Medical Center, a/k/a my bedroom. It has been a week to remember in the annals of Calamity Cass.

I have endured trauma - mostly, but not entirely, self-inflicted - to my upper body, lower body, and my head. As Kelli pointed out to me while we were chatting on Friday evening: "Damn girl, you don't do anything halfway, do you?" lol

Alas, she is correct, as always. :c) So follow along below the break for a summary of Cass's adventures in being a one-girl self-wrecking crew. :c)

I went for a long walk on both Saturday and Sunday of last week. Toward the end of my three-hour walk on Saturday, the big toe on my right foot felt a bit tender. Not painful; just enough discomfort for me to notice. But not enough for me to go for another walk on Sunday, albeit with the toe wrapped up first.

Towards the end of my walk, the toe began to throb, quite suddenly. I was able to walk normally, but I knew something was awry. When I got home, I paused for a moment before I removed my sneaker - and then for several moments before I removed my sock.

I will spare you the gory details, but it was... unpleasant. Enough so that I woke up early on Monday morning and knew I needed to see a podiatrist first thing. And I did.

It is less than encouraging when you display the offending digit to someone who specializes in that sort of thing... and hear her gasp audibly. lol

Being a professional, she quickly recovered and got to work repairing the damage as best she could. At one point, she noted, more in wonder than admonishment, that "[my] pain threshold must be through the roof."

Before I could reply, she then added, "But that's probably how you were able to deal with everything you did for so long, right?"(She had never met me before this, but my medical records still bear his name, of course.)

Anyway, I worked at home the rest of the day Monday, deciding that driving 90-120 minutes with a foot just minutes removed from surgery would be pushing my luck.

***

So, that covers the lower body. What about the head, you ask? Well, let me tell you about my

Tuesday. :D

Tuesday is electrolysis night, and has been for the past year and a half-plus. We have made a great deal of progress the past few months, thanks in no small measure to the two lengthy laser sessions I've recently discussed.

The downside to that, if there is one, is that we are now focused on the areas, and the follicles, that are the most stubborn - and, accordingly, the most painful to remove. M has worked exclusively on my upper lip and the corners of my mouth the past three weeks, trying to get as many of the stragglers as she possibly can - "so you can show off that mouth of yours!" as she tells me. :c)

I will not sugarcoat things: the last two sessions have been difficult. The results are worth it, but as M put it, it isn't coming easily.

Anyone who has had work done on the upper lip - in this case literally right under my nose - can likely relate to the unpleasantness of those last two hours. I generally chat the entire session with M, but the last two weeks I have tailed off after the first few minutes - without even realizing I had done so.

I kept getting the urge to sneeze, and tried desperately not to - successfully. Well, mostly. ;c) I also had to apologize several times when I asked for a momentary pause so I could clear my runny nose and dab at my watering eyes.

As M reminded me patiently, "Those are involuntary responses, hon; we're working in areas that are all nerve endings, with no tissue around them to cushion some of the pain. You don't need to apologize for that."

The last few moments were, in all honesty, agonizing. I heard her next client come in, and for the first time ever was glad that a session was over. Even when it has hurt in the past, I enjoyed chatting with M so much, and was so happy with the results, that I usually didn't realize our session is over until she stopped.

This time I kept waiting for her to sit back, as she does when she is finished.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

It felt like an eternity, but in reality it was only two minutes, if that. M kept working on an area directly under my right nostril, repeatedly working on what felt like the exact same spot.

She went in one more time, and began to pull.

And pull.

And pull.

And pull.

Suddenly I felt as if she was going to lift me completely off the table by this single follicle, such was her effort.

I couldn't help it; I suddenly heard myself saying "OwowowOWOWOW!!!"

M stopped immediately. Even as I was gasping for breath, trying to keep my composure, her distress was clear.

For several minutes it felt as if the skin had been torn off my lip and set on fire. But finally the pain was tolerable again.

"It's not your fault," I told her as she cleaned and then applied moisturizer to my face. "I should have said something sooner."

"No," she said. "It's my job to stop when it's clear a client has had enough. And you clearly had had enough tonight. I know how painful this is, especially at these levels."

(She has told me in the past she uses the highest settings on me, out of necessity, because of how coarse my beard is. Or was, I suppose.)

"And you never, ever complain, Cass," she continued. "How many times have I asked if you wanted break, or to cut a session short. And how many times have you said yes? Never. You always tell me to keep going. So when you, of all people, are uncomfortable, I should have been noticed."

"I'm no fool, M," I replied. "Like I'm going to cross someone who electrocutes people for a living?"

It was my standard joke. She laughed, as she always does.

As I pulled on my boots, she apologized one final time.

"For someone so nice, you are one tough cookie, Miss Cassidy. But even you have your limits. I'll try to keep that in mind from now on."

I know she will.

***

So, we have covered my adventures in pain management at the top and at the bottom.

All that is left is the middle.

Which brings us to Thursday night. :c)

The evening traffic on my route home last week was, for some reason, awful, even by Boston area standards. On Thursday, it was the worst I have seen it since being sentenced to serve time in our northern office. It was, literally, at a standstill. For hours.

After stopping for a cup of coffee and a frantic round of grocery shopping, I finally got home just before 10:00 PM.

My apartment is the top floor of a two family house. I use the entrance on the back side of the house, which leads directly to my apartment. I can enter and exit without bothering my landlord, C.

My entrance is located on a quiet side street. Even better, it has no street lights a bonus for me, since that is the side of the house with my bedroom.

I was balancing my laptop bag, pocketbook, lunch bag, and several bags of groceries as I walked up the steps and fished out my house keys. Sometimes the motion detector light comes on; this night it did not.

I reached for the door as I approached the top step. Suddenly my foot landed on something slippery, and I lurched to the right. Carrying five bags of various sizes, I was unable to reach out to grab something to steady myself.

Somehow I didn't drop anything, but I knew instantly I had hurt myself again. Not to the extent I had last time - that was pain like I had only endured... well, when I originally had my toe operated on way back in the day.

This wasn't pain on that level. But it was still quite unpleasant. I saw stars again, and felt nauseous... but I didn't feel as if I were going to pass out, as I did last time. And I could move, albeit very carefully and very, very slowly, without feeling as if I were being stabbed with an ice pick.

After a ten minute rest on the steps, I put on my phone's flashlight to see what caused my fall. And I quickly spotted the culprit:

A banana peel.

Given the layout of my house, and this entrance, there are only two way a banana peel wound up there.

First, I dropped it there while carrying out the trash. I hate bananas, so that is out.

Second... someone chose to put it there, I assume after dark, knowing I would most likely not be able to see it until it was too late.

My guess - and that is all it is - is that this was the work of some junior-high age students (12-14 years old). There are two schools within walking distance of my apartment, and I routinely see and hear the students coming and going during the school year.

I don't think I was singled out; I think they probably stopped there on their way home from school, perhaps sat on the stoop, and on the spur of the moment left the banana peel there.

A stunt like this has all the earmarks of something kids that age would do, most likely in a group, with none of them giving a thought to what could potentially go wrong - such as someone slipping and seriously injuring themselves. Or worse.

With that thought in mind, once I was able to stand, I slowly made my way to side entrance my 88-year-old landlord C uses, as well as the front steps, to check that no one had left a similar present there. They had not, fortunately.

I won't dwell on the stupidity and outright meanness it takes to do something like this; it won't change anything, even if I were to find out who did this. At least it was me, rather than C, who took the brunt of the damage - literally. She is quite spry for someone her age... but she is still 88 years old.

So... after a very uncomfortable night Thursday, and a long day at work Friday, bookended by two long commutes, I made it home. I have basically spent last night and all day Saturday applying ice packs to my foot, my right ankle (which is aching from bending the wrong way after slipping on Thursday night), and my ribs. At least the swelling went down on my upper lip by last night, so I don't need an ice pack there too!

I am not thrilled to be laid up like this; I was very frustrated the past two nights at yet another interruption after starting to get a regular exercise routine going. It feels never-ending, quite honestly.

But I had a long, productive talk with Kelli, about this and other, more personal matters I prefer not to address here, and came away even more determined.

The gist of our conversation: getting where I want to be involves hard work. Nothing less.

Hard work is what got me to where I am today, just under three years after the late night realization that I had to transition.

Hard work is what has allowed me to keep moving forward in the face of the events of the last few months - the most difficult months of my life, as I have mentioned previously.

And hard work is what will get to a better place, both literally and metaphorically.

I have a lot on my plate right now, as Kelli acknowledged at the beginning of this post. :c)

But I will deal with it.

All of it.

Not all at once.

But I will deal with it.

Bet on it.

Because I am just getting started.

***

Incidentally, once again I want to thank M, my electrologist, who took the photo at the top of the post. I like it, not so much because I am in it (although I love that I'm wearing my favorite teal dress!) - but for the light, and the expression she captured. Needless to say, this was taken before our session. lol

Like several of my friends (why, hello, Misses R and J! ;-p), M has not been shy about pointing out that my selfie-taking skills are, well, lacking.

R put it this way after I showed her the above shot: "Face it - you really suck at taking your own picture, Cass." lol

M, meanwhile, made much the same point after viewing several of my many, many less-than-stellar attempts: "You know, your nose isn't nearly that big, hon." Well, thank goodness for small blessings, I suppose. Literally, in this case.

So, again, another area in which I will have to work hard to achieve the result I want. Although given my lack of progress after nearly three years, I think transitioning will turn out to be less of a challenge! :D

Stay tuned for more selfies. If you dare...

***

Well after that ending, I guess I am obligated to give a shout-out to several other folks who are probiscusly-endowed:

As if being a brilliant songwriter and guitarist wasn't enough, just listen to the sound that Pete Townshend got here, particularly Keith Moon's drums - and bear in mind that he produced this in 1967!!!

I never tire of listening to this song on headphones; it truly does sound as if you can see for miles and miles.

Check out this absolutely blistering performance by The Faces of the Temptations classic "I'm Losing You," recorded live for the BBC in 1971:

I just wish this could go on forever - even Kenny Jones' drum solo (which is one of the few I can actually listen to without checking my watch). And damn, when Rod the Mod is engaged, as he is here, he is a force to be reckoned with.

I dearly wish I could have seen both The Who and The Faces in their prime. I have older cousins who did, and they still speak in reverential tones all these years later. Those really were the days, I guess...

I've written before about the meanness that seems to be in the air in this part of the United States. It's why I plan to move as far away as I possibly can once I can afford it again.

People who do things like this want to drag you down to their level - in this case, the gutter. Well, I won't let them do that to me anymore. I won't let *anyone* do that to me. The loss is entirely theirs.

On a happier note, I will no doubt be fully ambulatory soon, and hopefully incident-free for at least a few months! Fingers crossed. :D